Displays of Affection: Private and Public
by chrissel
Summary: Continues from my previous story Who He Is. Adventures of Rose and 10.5 in the alt!verse. A/N - corrected bad upload from last night. Sorry!
1. Chapter 1

*A/N - Sorry for the bad upload last night. Technical problems now fixed.*

Chapter 1

"Harmless you said! Just need an understanding ear, you said! They weren't looking for understanding, they were looking for lunch!" Rose called out as they ran through an alley, dodging litter and puddles and — ewww, what WAS that? Behind her was the subject of her conversation, seven feet tall, big teeth and a lovely shade of lobster red.

"Well, you know — alternate universe!" the man known as Doctor John Noble called back from his position several feet ahead of her. "Now come on, shake a leg! Unless you're looking forward to being Y'niac lunch." He made a quick dart to the left into an open door and grabbed her hand as she ran past, pulling her in behind him.

"Is that gonna be your excuse every time you cock it up, then?" Rose asked. "You've used it three times this week alone. 'Oh — sorry I shrank your laundry — must be the alternate universe'" He had been in Pete's World for three months, six days, 4 hours and 17 minutes, give or take a few seconds and perhaps the whole "alternate universe" excuse WAS beginning to get a bit old. But really — the Y'niac in their old universe were a peaceful race. Well, he says peaceful, maybe content would be a better word?. Of course, the only time he ever met them was after the three-day Feast of Neighborly Goodness. Hmmm. Come to think of it, he never did find out what that feast was all about and the Y'niac didn't have any neighbors, really. Not anymore anyway. All the neighboring planets were just empty ruins. Ah. Oh well.

"Whinging won't fix it now, Rose. Nothing for it but to follow the plan and lure it into a deserted area until help arrives. Come on then — up these stairs. I think I hear it coming!" And he pulled her bodily up the stairs.

From her vantage point following him up the stairs she had a prime view of his bum in his new jeans. Pinstripes were a thing of the past for this one. He'd been experimenting with jeans and turtlenecks, wooly jumpers, and was beginning an impressive t-shirt collection. Looking up at him, the view couldn't help but reminder her that, although he had told her he loved her on that beach and continued to make suggestive comments when they were alone, they had yet to do more than what Shareen would have called "making out". To say Rose was frustrated would be an understatement. Oh she understood why. He had explained that he wanted to make sure that before they did move forward in their relationship that she saw him as separate from the Doctor she knew and first fell in love with. And in her more rational moments she could respect that position. It's just that sometimes when they spent twenty minutes kissing goodnight she had a little trouble being rational, that's all.

She was pulled out of her reverie when he suddenly yanked open a closet door and said, "This ought to do nicely!"

She quickly followed him into the dark closet and closed the door. It smelled faintly of pine-scented cleaner and mould.

"Y'niac are not the most intelligent of creatures, Rose. He knows that we came into this building but he doesn't have the sense of smell of a tracker nor is he likely to think of opening closed doors. He should just wander the building endlessly confused. That should give Jake enough time to follow our signal and get some backup out here to capture it."

Rose noticed that however convinced he was that the Y'niac wasn't going to find them, he was still whispering. She mentioned that to him.

"Yes, well. They don't have a very refined sense of smell, but they are particularly good at hearing, so we just need to keep quiet and we'll be fine." Just then they heard heavy footsteps in the hallway. Rose turned to face the door and moved until her back was pressed up against him. In the silence of the closet the only sound was their rapid breathing from their run and the thumps in the hallway just beyond the door.

He felt her press back into him and breathed her in. He could smell her apple shampoo, the coffee she had that morning, a sharp tang of perspiration and the overpowering aroma of the adrenaline that was currently rushing through her veins. The combination was intoxicating to him and he took another deep breath in through his nose and slipped his arms around her waist to hold her closer. She smiled at the move and leaned back into him with a sigh. She never tired of this life of theirs.

"Just like old times?" he asked quietly.

"Better than old times," she replied.

"Oh?" And he dipped his head down to her neck and started moving his hands so they slid under her blouse and up her stomach. "Is that right?" His hand inched up her abdomen until his fingers brushed against the taut pebble of her left nipple.

"Mmmm hmmm," she murmured with a grin.

"And why is that, then?"

"Well to start with, I can't remember anytime I was hiding with the other you that included you feeling me up," she said smiling.

"Not for lack of wanting to," he replied quietly in her ear in a voice that sent a shiver down her spine.

He put his lips to her neck and kissed her. Oh, she tasted good. He could spend hours doing just this. Then he had an idea and grinned broadly. He moved his lips up to her ear and said, "No noises, remember? Must keep absolutely quiet, okay Rose?"

As she turned her head to look back at him questioningly, he captured her lips with his and kissed her but didn't let her turn around to face him. His right hand stayed on her left breast teasing the pointed nub of flesh there, but his left hand. Oh, his left hand was undoing the button on her jeans. She wasn't sure what he intended but she wasn't going to complain. She let out a quiet gasp as he pulled her zipper down just a little and then that clever hand of his was brushing across her stomach, down, down, slipping inside the waistband of her knickers until his middle finger s found her center. He ran his finger back and forth a few times, swallowing the moan she made with his mouth. Lifting his head away from her, he said again "Absolutely quiet, Rose. Or should I stop?"

She gulped and looked back and up at him. It was so dark in the closet she could barely see his face, but the little bit of light there was from the cracks in the doorway let her see the expression on his face and her knees went a little weaker than they already were. Silently, she looked him in the eye, grinned, then put her hand over his and began to move it again for him. She could tell he was grinning back when she saw the white of his teeth and heard an almost inaudible growl. He started moving his hands again and her eyes fluttered closed.

With his right hand, he continued worrying at her hardening nipples until they formed tight peaks. He pulled her bra — not one of her better ones but she wasn't really expecting THIS — up and over her breasts so he could have better access. His left hand stroked between her legs with a rhythm that was almost more than she could bear. Stroke, stroke, stroke, and then a finger moved deep inside her. Another three strokes and it was two fingers. Three more delicious strokes and suddenly he had three fingers inside her. As he began pumping them in and out of her, his thumb flicked at the small bundle of nerves that was right above his fingers.

Her response to his hands on her was having a definite effect on him as well. The smell of her arousal, the quickening of her breath and heart rate, it was everything he had been dreaming of, well, obsessing on, recently and more. His trousers were starting to grow uncomfortably snug and he began to wonder just where they could take this from here. He hadn't really planned that far in advance.

Rose's breath started coming in pants as she felt the tension coiling inside. The rhythm he had set up was more than she could take. She was just seconds from coming undone when they suddenly heard a voice in the hallway calling, "Rose! Doctor! Where are you? … Wait, I'm getting a signal! Over here guys!"

The sound of footsteps pounding towards them made him quickly pull his hands back to himself. With a groan, Rose tried to support her weight with her own legs; she suddenly realized how heavily she had been leaning into him — and fastened her jeans and repositioned her bra so it covered her breasts as designed instead of acting like a necklace.

So close. She can't believe she was that close. She wanted to cry and scream at the same time. She wanted to bar the door and rip his clothes off and say to hell with Jake, the Y'niac and Torchwood. But instead she tried to compose herself and turned to look at him. Her efforts were useless when she saw he was carefully, deliberately (joyfully!) licking the "evidence" from each and every one of his fingers. The look in his eyes was hunger and fire and a desire that was almost animalistic in nature. She felt the heat that had been fading inside her suddenly rage to a full boil again.

Just then, the door was yanked open. "Rose, Doctor! There you are! All clear! We've got the beastie in a containment unit and the boys are loading it onto a truck as we speak. You know, you really ought to look into carrying some blasters so you don't have to keep hiding in closets. It's not very Torchwood, you know. Running and hiding. You'll give us a bad name."

The Doctor answered, "Ah, but Jake, the running and hiding is half the fun!"

Rose tried to cover her discomfort by getting right down to business, "Make sure those containment units are sent directly to the Green Unit, Jake. What this guy lacks in smarts he makes up for in determination. I don't want him getting loose before we can figure out a way of getting him home."

Jake began calling orders out into his walkie talkie and the three of them headed down the hall toward the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Between getting the Y'niac processed in at Torchwood and filling out the copious paperwork, Rose and the Doctor had no time the rest of that afternoon to talk about what had (almost? mostly?) happened in that closet.

Before they knew it, it was seven o'clock and they were due at the Vitex charity dinner. It wasn't something either of them were looking forward to, but as Pete's "daughter", Rose's presence was mandatory. The Doctor had agreed to escort her after Rose threatened to make certain there would be no more marmalade stocked in the flat for the next six months if he didn't.

Rose desperately wanted to blow it off, drag the Doctor home with her and continue what they hadn't finished that afternoon. Infuriatingly, the Doctor was acting as if there was nowhere in the world he'd rather be that evening than at a charity dinner.

"Ready to go, Rose? How do I look?" He was wearing his latest fashion acquisition — a formal kilt. And he looked incredible, Rose thought. She wondered briefly how authentically dressed he was and had an only barely resistible urge to lift the kilt to check.

"Good! You look… good!" She looked away toward the locker rooms where her one, official "little black dress" was hanging in her locker. "I'll be back in a couple minutes, yeah? Just got to get into my dress."

"Okay, take your time. I'll wait for you in the lobby." He wandered toward the elevators with a distracted look on his face. While to Rose it looked like he had nothing more on his mind that the evening's festivities, he was actually totally preoccupied by replaying the afternoon's events over and over again in his mind. He was also completely at a loss on where exactly to take things from here. They had gotten into a comfortable routine over the past three months. He didn't want to do anything to jeopardize that. But even he realized that the days of a goodnight kiss followed by retreating to separate bedrooms were over. He still hadn't come up with a plan when the swish of a door opening announced her presence. He turned to greet her and his brain stopped working.

She stood there in the doorway, not noticing the look on his face as she tugged here and there on the dress so it would lay correctly. The dress was black jersey and it was her favorite because it could withstand any punishment — from wine stains to alien goop — and still look fresh after a brief trip through the washer and drier. That was its second best feature — how many cocktail dresses are machine washable after all? The fact that it looked good on her was the least of her concerns, but she did know it was a flattering cut. It clung in all the right places, draped concealingly over the wrong ones. It was short, but not shockingly so; low-cut but not so much as to be immodest.

As she had slithered into the jersey dress, her mind had drifted back to that afternoon. What kind of luck did she have that as soon as he decided to take their relationship past the hand-holding and kissing stage, they'd gotten interrupted? Was it a spur of the moment thing? Was he going to try to pretend it had never happened? Well that just WASN'T going to fly. She'd make sure he knew that now that he had moved forward, there would be no more going back! She'd spent more than enough time lying alone in bed wishing he was there with her. She began to formulate a plan in her mind.

By the time she had smoothed the dress down and grabbed her purse and an emerald green wrap from the coat rack in the corner, the Doctor had composed himself enough to say, "Rose! You're looking just beautiful!" He held out both his hands and took her hands in his. He brought them up to his mouth and kissed each one in turn while gazing into her eyes. She felt her pulse increase just from the way he was looking at her and her voice caught as she said, "Thank — thanks!"

"Ready to go?" he asked, dropping her hands and holding one arm out to his side.

"I am," she said, laying a hand on his elbow.

When they got to the banquet hall, the charity event progressed much like the many others Rose had attended in her time in this universe. A couple hours of cocktails and conversation, followed by dinner and interminable speeches. Rose made sure that she and the Doctor were seated in one of the darker corners at a table with an elderly couple named the Jensens that she remembered speaking with at Pete and Jackie's Christmas party.

All through the dinner, the Doctor tried to make small talk with the Jensens. It was made more difficult by the fact that both Mr and Mrs Jensen were profoundly hard of hearing. They were seated in a semi-circular booth with the Doctor on one end, then Rose, Mr. Jensen and finally Mrs. Jensen on the other end.

"I SAID THE CHICKEN IS QUITE TASTY!" the Doctor called across the table to Mrs. Jensen.

"No, no, my boy. I'm eighty-two, not eighty. I thought I mentioned that earlier, Horace. Is he soft in the head or just not paying attention?"

"Eh? Who's paying attention?" her husband asked.

The Doctor turned to Rose and quietly asked, "Why exactly did you talk to the program manager and ask to have us seated here? There has to have been someplace a bit more… contemporary?"

She replied, "Oh, I have my reasons. You'll just have to wait and see." And she gave him a wink.

As the dessert of lemon and ginger sorbet was being served, the lights dimmed and the guest of honor took the podium to begin the first speech.

As the speech started, Rose took a couple of bites of the sorbet then put her spoon down, reached down to her lap for her napkin and wiped at her mouth. When she returned her napkin to her lap, however, her hand stayed down beneath the table.

Mrs. Jensen was enraptured by the speaker. Mr. Jensen was snoring next to her. The Doctor's attention was partly on the speech, but mostly looking around the room at the rest of the guests. Since their table was along the far wall, everyone else in the room was looking away from them and up at the stage.

Rose gently laid her right hand on the Doctor's left thigh. He turned to her briefly and gave her a smile. Once she had caught his eye, she slowly slid her hand down his thigh to his knee. The kilt reached a little below his knee so she pulled at the fabric until her hand found bare leg. The Doctor's eyebrow raised as she was doing this, his eyes questioning. Just where was she going with this?

She gave him a wide grin and her tongue poked out through her teeth on the side of her mouth. She continued to move her hand up his thigh and when she got to the top, where his leg meets his hip, she found the answer to her earlier question. This was going to be even easier than she had hoped. She shouldn't have been surprised though. When did he not want to be as authentic as possible?

The Doctor was starting to have a guess as to where this was heading and he turned his head worriedly looking around to see who might be observing them. But Rose had planned this well. For the next forty minutes, while the speaker droned on about the fate of the Migrant Bullnose Peregrin, they were effectively alone in a room of two hundred people.

She smiled as she whispered to him, "Just gotta keep quiet, okay?"

He swallowed, then nodded.

She let her hand drift off his leg and toward her goal and he leaned back a bit in the booth and opened his legs just a bit.

His eyes closed as her hand closed around his already hardening shaft. She let her thumb brush lightly over the tip once, twice, three times, then set up a rhythm of stroking him that was the sweetest of torture. Not fast, not hard, just gently and slowly, over and over and over. Every minute or two, she'd stop the stroking and caress his balls to rest her arm for a bit. Then she'd start up the slow and steady stroking again.

After a while she noticed the tip of his cock was producing some drips of fluid. Remembering that afternoon, she scooped it onto her fingers and put her hand up to her mouth. She waited for him to open his eyes to see why she had stopped what she was doing and then she let her tongue come out and lick her fingers.

And with that one action, it was suddenly more than he could take. He looked around the room — the speaker was still going strong and there was no one looking at them. He took in a set of doors just thirty feet away from their table and made his decision.

He grabbed her hand and said to the Jensens, "Excuse us for a moment, won't you? I need to speak to Ms. Tyler for a minute in private." Without waiting for a response, he pulled Rose up from the table and guided her to the set of doors — keeping her strategically positioned in front of him to camouflage his suddenly tent-like kilt.

Through the doors were the restrooms. He was desperately hoping they were the private, one-person style and not the five-stalls-in-a-room type, but even if it was the latter, he wasn't sure he was going to let that stop him. He pushed through to the one marked "Ladies" and was glad to see a single toilet and vanity.

With the last shred of rational thought, he flicked the lock on the door, lifted Rose up to sit on the vanity and crushed his lips down on hers.

She smiled through his kisses and said, "I take it you're ready to move forward with our relationship?"

He reached up her dress between her legs to find she had also chosen to go without undergarments tonight. With one motion, he inserted two fingers deep inside her. Her head fell back in pleasure.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"Guh. Umm. Okay." Rose had lost the ability to be coherent in that one move. Instead she reached up, grabbed the back of his head and pulled him back to her mouth. She felt his tongue probing her mouth, mapping each corner of it like it was a scientific excursion. At the same time one hand roamed her body while the other stroked and teased between her legs.

"Rose. There's something I've wanted to do for such a long time now." He gave her a look that sent a shock of electricity through her. He slowly lowered himself until his head was level with the vanity. He pushed her legs open and breathed in deeply the heady aroma of her arousal.

She had a feeling she knew where he was going with this. She had only fantasized about this once or twice (oh, all right, once or twice a night). As he gently opened her up to his gaze, Rose was overcome with anticipation. So long she had been waiting for this and now here she was, in the Ladies' of a hotel reception hall with the Doctor's head between her legs. The thought alone was almost too much for her and when he finally touched his tongue to her soft flesh, it was all she could do to keep from reflexively squeezing his head with her thighs.

He took to this like everything else. Tasting, exploring with both hands and tongue, then finding what he was looking for in the small circle of flesh that made her gasp every time he touched it. He began to circle, circle, flick at that one area, again and again. Circle, circle, flick. Until she was so close, she had to stop him.

She reached down and pulled his shoulders up until he was looking at her. "Stop!" she breathed. "Too close… I want you inside me. Now. Please…"

He could see the unbridled desire on her face and he knew it was matched only by his own. He pulled her face to his in a kiss, lifted his kilt, and in one motion guided himself inside her.

She gasped at the feel of him filling her so completely. He didn't move for a moment, letting her adjust to him. Then she nodded and he started moving slowly, in and out, building a steady rhythm that would send them down the road to completion.

He reached in to kiss her again and between the taste of her juices on his lips and the steady rocking movements of his hips, she quickly found that sweet tension coiling inside her again. She tried and tried to hold out, wanting to prolong this as long as she possibly could. But the more she tried, the less she was able. She heard a low keening noise and was surprised to find she was making it herself. Then he reached down to where they were joined and began rubbing her clit in time with his thrusts. That was the final straw. She could feel the waves of pleasure rushing over her like a storm at sea and found herself sobbing his name, "John! John! Yes! Oh God, YES!"

Hearing her call his name — HIS name, not the other one — plus the feel of her muscles clenching him, sent him into his own orgasm, and with one word, "Rose!" he emptied himself into her and collapsed into her arms.

Bodies quaking, they lay there without moving for several moments. Finally, he looked up at her and smiled. "Yes," he said.

"Huh? Yes what?" she asked, confused.

"Yes, Rose Tyler. I AM ready to move forwards with our relationship. If it's all right with you, that is."

She smacked him in the arm, "You git! You think you're so impressive, don't you."

He leaned back against the wall with a smug look on his face. "Oh Rose, I am that impressive."

And, just this once, she had to agree.


End file.
